


Maybe I'm Allergic To Life And Bullshit

by EmetoOmo



Series: Allergy Series [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: Sequel to I’m Not Airsick, I’m Allergic To Airplanes. Kicked off the air flight and effectively banned from the airline, Hanzo and Jesse are forced to call for a ride from HQ while standing out in less-than-appropriate attire in public.





	Maybe I'm Allergic To Life And Bullshit

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: part 3 to the mchanzo series/clusterfuck (it’s a beautiful one, I’m lov) once they’re off the plane and arrive at their destination, someone (genji?? gabe?? Your choice) comes to pick them up by car and they’re both just like “McFuck this was a bad decision”
> 
> Graphic depictions of vomiting ahead.
> 
> To see art inspired by this series, visit squidbiscuit on tumblr here: http://squidbiscuit.tumblr.com/post/168610426231/can-everyone-do-me-a-favor-and-read-this-fic

Jesse shivered, muscled hair-covered thighs trembling with every breeze. His boxers and undershirt were stained a dreadful and unfortunate shade of hot pink, and still damp from his futile attempts to clean up in the airport bathroom sink. While he’d passed his hoodie off to Hanzo, who brooded still slightly green beside him, lost and found had chased him out of the unclaimed belongings he was digging through before he could find something to dress in.

“How you doin’, partner?” McCree asked Hanzo, moving to rub his back.

The archer bristled at first, starting to move away, before realizing it just felt too comforting to fight against. “They confiscated my sake.”

“I doubt that’d fix anything.” McCree chuckled, respectfully not lighting a cigar, so that Hanzo didn’t have to deal with the scent of his cigar.

“Nonsense. Sake fixes all.” Hanzo grumbled, sulking more into that horseshoe hoodie.

“Sure it does,” McCree smirked. “We get home, an I’ll get ya taken care of.”

“I am not a child.”

“You ain’t. Just means you had to earn this rest.” McCree said softly. He could see that stubbornness firing up within his boyfriend before the ember was squashed by that still-lingering air sickness, and he just remained quiet. Instead, he settled his attention on taking deep breaths through his nose of that cool, fresh air and let it soothe his angry stomach.

A half an hour passed before the vicious rumble of a muscle car roared through the parking lot, echoing off the walls of Hanzo’s aching dehydrated skull and making him squint against it. McCree just kept at those slow, gentle circles on his back, doing all he could to keep from shaking him too badly from his shivers.

The gunmetal Mustang pulled before them, a black tinted window rolling down to reveal one Gabriel Reyes behind it. He pulled up his dark sunglasses, peering first at McCree’s earnest and thankful grin, then Hanzo’s ‘I wish I were dead’ stare, then at the two of them together before he calmly let his sunglasses fall back onto his nose where they originally had rested.

“Nope.” He rolled the window up, and quickly drove from the parking lot.

“Heh…good ol’ Reyes. Such a joker,” McCree chuckled. “You got us! Very funny!” The car turned out of the parking lot and merged back onto the highway. “You…you can come back now.”

He wasn’t coming back.

Next time a car showed up, it was a supercharged Mazda in carbon-fiber and lime green. Speeding recklessly into the parking lot, Genji spotted his brother with a grimace, and sighed at the shivering, snotting mess that was McCree. He popped the trunk reluctantly. “You smell like a bad birthday party.”

“ _Sniffle._  It’s allergy season.  _Sniffle_.” McCree said, his nose red from the chill. Hanzo immediately found a place in the backseat, laid down, and said nothing, leaving Jesse to put the bags in the trunk.

“They let you on the plane like that?” Genji asked, glaring through the rearview at Hanzo who caught his gaze, and gave him the stank eye. Genji gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I could have just left you here to get picked up for indecent exposure.”

“I am dressed.” Hanzo said turning away from the mirror.

“It’s not indecent if you keep the cowboy behind the barn door,” McCree said slipping into the front seat, and buckling in. “You got heat in this heap.”

“It’s like…50 degrees outside.”

“Says the guy whose temperature auto…whatevers—“

“Regulates.” Genji and Hanzo said at the same time, then grimaced like it was physically painful to have been on the same page.

“Regurgitates, that, yeah.” McCree repeated, or rather tried to,  not really paying attention to either of them as he searched the gauges on the dash. Genji was already pulling out of the parking lot, not at all gentle as he raced out onto the highway, making Hanzo have to sit straight up and glare. “Where the hell is the confound heat?”

“I don’t have a heater.” Genji said simply, shifting.

“What do you mean you don’t have one? What kind of tin can are you driving?” McCree asked, sounding offended.

“No heater. No air conditioner. I took the radio out. You’re lucky I left the backseat in.” He wove in and out of traffic as if he were auditioning for a Fast & Furious movie. Hanzo continued glaring at him as if he could somehow go back and fix his botched assassination, getting it right this time, with a simple look.

“But why not? I can see ya not needing a heater or air conditioner, but the radio too?”

“Extra weight, and I needed the radio space for gauges.”

McCree was having the hardest time wrapping his head around this concept. “It’s a car, it’s just gotta get you from point a to point b.”

“When I’m done, it’ll do a quarter mile in 11 seconds.” Genji seemed proud of this fact, McCree just felt more confused.

“Wasteful.” Hanzo hissed disgusted.

Genji fluffed the break, sending the archer head first into the back of his seat, courtesy of his lack of seat belt. “Sorry, thought I saw a dog.”

“This is a freeway, Genji.” Hanzo growled.

“It was a fast dog.”

 —–

McCree was glad when Genji had finally pulled into their driveway, having worried the whole way whether it would be Genji’s reckless driving that would kill them, or Hanzo finally losing it and choking the piss out of the younger Shimada while they drove. Luckily, neither incident happened, and Hanzo piled out of the car quickly, heading up to unlock the door while McCree moved to grab their luggage. “Thanks, kid.”

Genji shrugged for the thanks, and once they had their things, left them to their evening.

Jesse sighed with relief as he entered the warmth of their home, closing the door, and catching sight of a black ponytail off the side of the couch. Leaving their luggage in the entryway, Jesse disappeared into the kitchen.

Hanzo closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep, anything to get his body to shut down and reset from the abuse to his inner ear. He was not at all accustomed to having motion sickness, usually the very picture of feigned composure and grace. But his stomach gurgled angrily, his head still swimming from the plane ride, and Genji’s driving exacerbating the fact.

“Hey. Thought you could use this.”

Hanzo opened his dark eyes to see McCree holding a steaming cup of shrimp Cup Noodles, looking a little nervous. They both knew it was best not to let McCree cook a damn thing, but the gesture was… _cute_ …he had to admit. Knowing that McCree likely felt guilty about the whole thing, Hanzo sat up slowly and took it. “Thank you.”

The cowboy lit up like a Christmas Tree. “It’s what I’m here for.” Sitting down beside Hanzo, McCree grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on to the boring poker tournament Hanzo seemed to get so enthralled in before grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and covering their laps with it. They could go catch a shower once Hanzo finished eating.

Hanzo leaned against McCree, and absently picked at the too-hot cup. As the tournament went on and the cup cooled, he had worked his way through it without realizing it, sipping the last of the juice from the bottom and sitting it on the coffee table.

“Better?” Jesse asked.

“Yes.” Hanzo answered distractedly, just curling up against him in the way he often did when he was  _demanding_  cuddles.

McCree laughed softly, mirth dancing in his eyes as he wrapped his arm around him. He still sniffled a bit, the runny nose persisting. Hanzo’s stomach gurgled loudly, causing him to shift a little uncomfortably, but otherwise glued to the tv.

 _“Rrrlllllggggllll..”_ Hanzo’s stomach continued to protest, and he could hear the elder Shimada audibly swallow.

“Hanzo…” McCree prompted gently. “If you’re not feelin well, just—“

“I am fine.” He insisted.

“It’s just…you said you were fine on the plane, and I smell like that—“

“I said I am  _huuurrrrrrpp!_ ” Hanzo gagged suddenly, sudden enough that his eyes widened with the surprise as he clamped his hand over his mouth and sprang to his feet. He was trembling, nearly losing his footing, but McCree was right at his side, steadying him as he tried to urge him to the bathroom.

“ _Brrruuuuupppp!”_ A belching gurgle forced it’s way up, wet with acid and the taste of undigested shrimp, just forcing another loud heave from Hanzo, this one productive and forcing a wave of broth-colored vomit through his fingers and down his front.

“Shit…here, the sink.” McCree said, just ushering him into the kitchen. Another loud, painful retch made Hanzo’s eyes water as more vomit, this time with noodles and veggies, spattering the tile floor.

Luckily, the next one came as Jesse got him bent over the sink, a strong arm around him to steady him. “You didn’t need to eat those, I’m sorry they made you so sick..” McCree said, just holding back those stray strands of hair as Hanzo emptied his stomach into the sink, barely enough time to catch his breath between them.

When the heaves turned dry, Hanzo turned the warm water on, rinsing the sink and turning on the garbage disposal before he leaned forward to drink the warm water straight from the tap, chugging a decent amount before he simply shoved his fingers into his throat.

“Hanzo! Whatcha doing that for!?” McCree exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Want it all out.” He grit out between gags. He brought the water, and what was left of the cup of noodles, as well as some painful reminders of the last vestiges of strawberry cake before he was done. His shaking legs didn’t want to hold him up anymore, leaving McCree to hold him with one arm while he rinsed the sink with the other.

“We need to get you a shower, then into bed,” he whispered. “That’s enough  _allergies_  for a life time.”

Hanzo couldn’t help but to agree, at least partially, and let him take him on up to bathe.


End file.
